Just Drop Out (Hannaford Prep, #1)

by J. Bree

Hannaford requires either a sport or some form of music as subjects and picking between them was like choosing a method to die. I physically could not do anything that required strenuous use of my legs. I have five pins and two plates holding one of my legs together, which is a violent and dark story for another time, which means unless I could’ve done basketball sitting down, I couldn't pick gym. Music was a very different beast. I can't play any instruments, but I can sing. Actually, I can fucking sing. But I haven't been able to hear the sound of my own singing for years without my PTSD kicking my ass all over the shop.

I snort and give Harley an incredulous look. “You think I want to date anyone at this pompous school? None of you lot know a damn thing about real life. None of you will ever have to live in it! You’ll all graduate and then live in the perfect little worlds your parents have already carved out for you, and then you’ll go on to have kids and set them up into your billion-dollar empires, while I scrape to make sure I can afford to eat and keep the lights on each month. Fuck you and fuck your assumptions. I’m just here to graduate and get scholarships for college.”

Diarmuid grins at me again and tucks the diamond into his jeans. “Oh, I know it. I’m just making sure my little nephew knows it too. He looks a little green around the gills, is all.” He steps forward and slaps Harley’s shoulder. “I came here to have a little heart-to-heart with you about decisions you need to make, but I see you’ve already made them. It all comes down to this: if you don’t kill the old man someday for what he did to your Ma and Da, then I will. And if I don’t succeed, then your little Wolf here will do it for us both. She’s got one hell of a steady hand.”